


Degenerate

by flippyspoon



Series: Sometimes When it Snows [8]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Romance, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 04:38:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2011215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippyspoon/pseuds/flippyspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy has a bad tooth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Degenerate

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for scary teeth-related things, if you're sensitive to that.

**Spring 1906**

The schoolroom was stuffy and hot but when Jimmy fidgeted or started humming in class, he was often rewarded with a sharp rap on the knuckles courtesy of Miss. He thought his writing was just fine, thank you. Napoleon was dull unless there was a battle going on (though you never did get to hear about the good bits with blood and real fighting which did not seem fair at all). It was all mostly dates and numbers and how could a person not fidget stuck learning dates and numbers all morning?

The day before, Jimmy had pulled his first truly stupid stunt. Miss had ordered him to go up to the board and write two sentences about Moses and they had to be true. Jimmy thought the Moses story was interesting enough. He’d accomplished his task dutifully and in a careful script; a model student. But when he turned around his eyes were magnificently crossed. Everyone laughed.

That had got him a caning to the legs.

The memory brought with it a sting and Jimmy reached down to absentmindedly rub the back of his left calf, his eyes focused on his slate. His school suit made him itch and he pulled at his collar.

“Daddy wouldn’t buy me a bow wow _…_ ” The whisper of a song came from behind him and Jimmy smiled widely. Miss was talking to the littler girls on the other side of the room so there was a smidgeon of freedom to be had.

“Bow wow!” Jimmy whispered in refrain.

“Daddy wouldn’t buy me a bow wow…” Albie sang again softly.

“Bow wow!” Jimmy whispered.

He looked back and Albie was holding a hand over his mouth to quell his laughter. Albie had dark hair always flopping over his brown eyes, and a smattering of freckles on his round-cheeked face.

They managed to evade trouble and after school the two of them traipsed down the road away from the dull brick building next to the church, their arms around each other’s shoulders as they sang and made their way into the town proper. The road got busier as they walked on, crowded with horse-drawn carts and wagons, vendors selling flowers and fruit from baskets, and the occasional beggar asking change.

“I have a kitty cat, and I’m really fond of that! But I’d rather have a bow-wow-wow!”

“Jimmy!” Henrietta hollered, running up beside them. She was a pretty little blonde thing, but her pinafore was spattered with mud and her pinned-up ringlets were coming undone. She walked on the other side of Albie, ignoring him.

“Yeh, whattaya want?” Jimmy snapped.

She jumped in front of them, nearly tripping on the cobblestones. Jimmy heard giggles and looked over his shoulder to see Henrietta’s two little friends huddled under a streetlamp on the side of the road.

“I’ve got an orange,” Henrietta said gravely, standing still so that Jimmy and Albie were forced to stop walking.

Jimmy snorted and shot a look at Albie, who shrugged. “Good for you then,” Jimmy said. He nodded at Albie and started to walk around the annoying girl, but she tugged on his coat.

“I’ll give it you!” Henrietta said.

Jimmy looked over at Albie; weary. It had to be a trick. Girls were always tricking him in ways that appeared to be attempts at charm. Girl were everywhere, always, and they were annoying.

“I haven’t got anything to trade!” Jimmy said.

“Yes, ya do,” Henrietta said. She smiled cheekily and Jimmy felt a quiver of fear. She yanked him into a narrow alleyway that smelled like rotten fish because people kept jostling them, and Albie followed.

_Bloody girls._

“What?” Jimmy said, scowling.

“I’ll give ya the orange if… If ya give me a kiss.” She grinned as if she had just bestowed a great honor upon him.

Jimmy thought there might be something wrong with Henrietta’s brain if she thought an orange was worth a kiss. But he wasn’t about to turn down a free orange. He shrugged, leaned forward, and kissed Henrietta on the cheek with a loud smack. Next to him, Albie was watching as if one of them might explode.

“Thank ya, Jimmy,” Henrietta said, batting her eyelashes. She handed him the orange.

“You say so,” Jimmy mumbled. “C’mon, Albie.”

They walked on while behind him the girls erupted into squeals and loud claims that Henrietta might have cheated at whatever game they had been playing.

“Stupid girl,” Jimmy laughed, when they were well away from the strange creatures. “An orange for a kiss? What kind of trade is that?”

“Let’s eat it at the yard!” Albie said. “I’ll beat you!” With that he took of running and Jimmy followed him and knew he would lose because Albie had longer legs. They shoved past vendors and old ladies to St. James’ and the churchyard beside it where there was a great hedge and an oak next to a line of headstones, and their favorite place to hide. Jimmy collapsed next to Albie in the shade.

“Right then, I’ll give ya half,” Jimmy said when he’d caught his breath. He felt awfully generous to be giving away half an orange. He started to peel the fruit with his stubby unpracticed fingers.

“Haven’t got anything to trade,” Albie said loftily.

“We’ll give us a kiss!” Jimmy said, in an exaggerated girl’s voice.

Albie leaned forward and kissed Jimmy on the cheek.

Maybe it was because Jimmy was Albie’s friend and knew him better, or because he was certain that Albie was the best of the boys at school and better than all the girls put together, but Jimmy’s cheeks felt hot, and the spot where Albie had kissed him burned. He’d been looking down at his orange and now he couldn’t seem to raise his eyes again. But he smiled and chuckled, suddenly nervous

“Still a bloody stupid trade,” Jimmy mumbled.

“Give it back then,” Albie cracked.

Jimmy blinked at him and Albie offered his cheek. Jimmy was clutching the half-peeled orange so tightly the juice was leaking all over his fingers. He licked his lips and ducked his head, kissing Albie right on his smattering of freckles. Albie only laughed and stole the orange.

“I’ll peel it then, you’re rubbish.” He started singing their song again and Jimmy needed a thick moment before he could manage to sing along; but his stomach was fluttery, his nerves shaken.

**Spring 1922**

Downton had thawed. Now it was March and the ladies walked often in the gardens as cherry blossoms fell to decorate their hats. Even Lady Mary was cheerful enough to join them, though her smiles were still scarce and her soft laughs scarcer. Thomas and Jimmy were serving tea to the ladies and their visitors in the rose garden where, mercifully, rain was not expected. Thomas held the biscuit tray forward for a Lady Madeline Whatever-her-name-was and when he heard Jimmy hiss slightly, he turned his head to look. Jimmy was grimacing as he stood straight and tall. He had been off lately. Thomas didn’t know what was wrong with him. His questions so far had been rebuffed.

Things had been going so smoothly for months now. Better than smoothly-they were the closest of friends since Christmas. Thomas had nothing to compare it to. O’Brien had been a trusted confidante long ago, but she had never wept in his arms. Though she had come surprisingly close a couple of times. But Jimmy was some other sort of friend that Thomas had never seen the like of. Which was odd since Jimmy seemed to place so little importance on other people.

“Are you quite alright, James?” Mrs. Crawley spoke up from the table.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jimmy said tightly, hardly opening his mouth.

Lady Grantham smiled and sipped her tea. “Are you certain? If you’re feeling poorly, you must tell us.”

Everyone stared at Jimmy, who looked to Thomas for help. Thomas shook his head, clueless.

“It’s…just a toothache, m’lady,” Jimmy said. “I’ll be fine.”

All the ladies sounded a collective: “Oh!”

“Well, you must get that seen to,” the Dowager said. “The cook’s crab bisque has bite enough without teeth falling into it at dinner.”

“We’ll set you up with our dentist in York, James,” Lady Grantham said. “We’ll get it taken care of.”

“No!” Jimmy said, and cleared his throat. “That is…if you don’t mind, my lady, I have my own dentist. He’s…a friend. Of my family’s. And…I have loyalty. To him. The dentist.”

Thomas couldn’t help smiling at Jimmy’s complete inability to lie gracefully. The answer seemed to assuage the ladies. After tea, Thomas found Jimmy in the kitchen.

“You’ve got a dentist?” Thomas said.

“No, I don’t,” Jimmy said under his breath. He winced and touched his left cheek. “And don’t say nothin’ about it.”

“Well, you’re going to go to one, aren’t you?” Thomas said.

“I’ll be fine."  He didn’t look fine. He’d shut his eyes and he was still holding his cheek tenderly.

“It’s not going to go away-”

“Oh, leave it alone!” And with that, he stalked out of the kitchen.

So Thomas left Jimmy to his own devices. But that night when they had turned in, Jimmy knocked on Thomas’s door. He was holding a cold cloth to his jaw.

“Hello,” Jimmy said.

“How’s the tooth?”

“Awful,” Jimmy said. He looked gaunt. “I can’t sleep for the life of me. I wanted to ask you a favor. Can I come in?”

Thomas hovered by his vanity as Jimmy ambled inside and shuffled his feet.

“Did you have a bad time at a dentist once?” Thomas said.

“Yeah, when I was young. They pulled a tooth and gave me laughin’ gas. I…didn’t like it. Felt like I was hovering outside my body and I couldn’t move. Started bawling, it was bloody humiliating.”

“Well…they could do it without the gas but it’ll hurt like anything-”

“I want you to do it.”

“Do what?” Thomas frowned. “Take you to the dentist?”

“No, I want you pull the tooth.” He shut his eyes and moaned a little. “Bloody…”

“Pull the tooth,” Thomas repeated. “Pull your tooth?”

“No, King George’s tooth, bloody hell-”

“Jimmy-”

“Well, you were a medic, weren’t you?”

“I wasn’t a  _dentist_.” Thomas whipped out a cigarette. Just the thought of pulling one of Jimmy’s teeth out of his head gave Thomas the shakes.

“All you have to do is give it one big pull. It’s already a little loose. Use pliers or something. I’m not goin’ to a dentist and I don’t trust anyone else.” Jimmy was pale and sweaty. Thomas took a long drag on his cigarette as he considered. “Please? I’d be grateful.”

Thomas contemplated while smoking the entirety of his cigarette and then said: “Let’s see it.”

“The tooth?”

“Yeah…”

Jimmy came nearer the light and ended up bending backward, clutching a side-table, and sticking his head under the lamp. He looked away as Thomas leaned down and squinted into his mouth. It didn’t take long to find the offender-an angrily darkened lower molar. “It’s going to hurt. A lot.”

There was no doubt, the thing had to come out. Jimmy could be stubborn, Thomas knew that much. If he refused to go to a dentist he might well let his mouth rot out, vanity or no vanity.

Jimmy closed his mouth and stood up, stroking his jaw. “I know… I plan to drink. I’ll get some ice from the kitchen.”

“Alright. Fine. When?” Thomas felt as if they were planning a heist.

“Ah…good.” Jimmy smiled weakly. “Tomorrow. We’ll have some time after luncheon. We’ll use the scullery.”

“You think I’m goin’ to pull your tooth out and you’ll go stand at the door?” Thomas said with a chuckle. “Your mouth’ll be bleeding.”

“I’ll manage,” Jimmy said, though he didn’t sound certain.

“We’ll see,” Thomas said, though he was doubtful.

**Summer 1906**

Jimmy’s father and his friends were carousing in the kitchen of the very small Kent home-one of many in a line of packed-in terraced housing. Jimmy was meant to be asleep but even his mother couldn’t expect him to get any rest with the way they were carrying on. Besides, it was too exciting to hear the men drinking and singing and telling stories. Jimmy looked up to his father as a god. And like a god, Jimmy feared him and also wanted to be him. Jimmy’s father could fix things, it was what he did for a living. Whatever needed putting back together around their town- Jimmy’s father could manage it. He could do card tricks and magic tricks and play a bit of piano. Everyone loved Jimmy’s father. Sometimes he’d teach his son a thing or two, and Jimmy lived for such moments.

Now Jimmy hid in the shadows of the hallway and watched his father laughing as they all sat around the table with their bottle of whiskey. His father had a thick brown mustache. He had loosened his tie and he was drinking whiskey. His mother sat in a corner, sewing by lantern light.

“Aye, Emma’s goin’ to have another soon enough,” Mr. Smith said with a sigh. He was a brick-layer and he had three children already, all younger than Jimmy.

“You’ve been busy haven’t ya?” Jimmy’s father said. “Lay off the lass once in a while.”

“Ask her to lay off me!” Mr. Smith said, drinking from his cup.

“Is that your boy then?” Jimmy didn’t know the other man who spoke, but he stepped into the light, pursing his lips.

“That’s the lad alright,” Jimmy’s father said. “Come out then-”

“He  _should_  be in bed.” His mother frowned at her mending.

“Oh, leave him, momma.” Mr. Kent blew Jimmy’s mother a kiss and she rolled her eyes. “He’s a man, ain’t he? Come have a drink, lad. Just a taste.”

Jimmy bounded over, grinning, as his mother hollered, “Just a taste!”

His father pulled out a chair for him at the table and offered him his cup. Jimmy took a sip and it burned all the way down to his stomach. “Bleah!” He stuck out his tongue.

“No more now!” His mother said.

“It’s awful!” Jimmy licked the sleeve of his pajamas to get the taste out of his mouth.

“He’s handsome enough,” Mr. Smith remarked.

“Aye,” his father agreed. “He’ll break hearts all over Yorkshire.”

“How old are ya, son?” Mr. Smith’s friend said.

“Eleven.”

“Have ya kissed a lotta girls?” Mr. Smith winked at his friend. Jimmy knew they were making fun, but it was still exciting to keep company with his father.

“Yeh!” Jimmy said. “I’ve kissed Henrietta for an orange. And I kissed Albie! Well, he kissed me and then I kissed him. For the orange.”

His father’s friends burst out laughing and Jimmy’s father sighed. He leaned over, close to Jimmy. “Albie? Your friend Albert?”

“Yeah!”

“Ya can’t go kissing blokes, Jimmy.” His father said.

“Is your boy a molly, Sam?” Mr. Smith said, taking another gulp of whiskey.

“Mr. Smith!” Jimmy’s mother shrilled.

“We’re goin’ to have a word with the boy, momma,” His father said. “Maybe you ought to…”

She nodded and rose, gathering her mending to go to her room. “Be sweet. He doesn’t know better.”

“Yes, Miss..”

She kissed him on his temple as she went out.

“Now Jimmy-”

“I liked kissin’ Albie better than Henrietta,” Jimmy said when his mother had gone. “Her face was sticky and she kept giggling.”

“Jimmy!” His father laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re havin’ a laugh, but you can’t go kissing blokes.”

“Why not? I like Albie, he-”

“‘Cause lads don’t kiss lads,” Mr. Smith said, sitting back in his chair. His eyes were red. “Not unless you want your bits chopped off, son.”

The men all laughed again and clinked their cups together. Jimmy didn’t see anything funny about it. “Who chops your bits off? Why!”

“‘Cause it’s against God,” his father said, serious and drunk. “God and the law. Men and women get married and have children. Men can’t do that with other men, nor lasses with lasses. Right? So it’s unnatural. Sort of makes ya…eh, half-man half-lady. They call em’ sodomites. So no kissin’ blokes. People will think you’re not right in the head or you’re not a man. You want to be a man, don’t ya?”

“Yeah!” Jimmy puffed up his chest. “I am a man!”

“Right, good,” his father agreed, nodding. “And if I ever hear you’ve kissed a bloke again, I’ll box yer ears.”

Jimmy ducked his head and nodded. His father had hit him only twice in his life. Which hardly even counted compared to a lot of other boys he knew. But it was enough that he was very aware that it could happen again if he did the wrong thing. This was bad news. He had not kissed Albie since the orange and Albie had never mentioned it.

But Jimmy had thought of it.

“Now ya mustn’t ever talk about such things after this, now ya know,” Jimmy’s father went on. “And bloody hell, don’t tell your mum I’ve told ya the word sodomite.”

“I won’t.”

“Have another drink,” his father said.

“Aah, I don’t like it.”

“Come on then, it’ll put hair on your chest.” His father handed him the cup. Jimmy took a deep breath and then drank a fat gulp of the awful stuff. It made him feel sick.

“He’s a man alright!” Mr. Smith’s friend said.

Jimmy grinned and wiped his mouth.

“Off to bed with you,” Mr. Kent said.

“Try to dream of girls!” Mr. Smith said. His father socked Mr. Smith in the shoulder.

That night in bed, Jimmy decided that it was all probably fine. His father had only been afraid that people would think he was one of those sodomites. Which meant he must not be one. Which was good, because the thought of his bits being chopped off made him want to grab himself and make certain everything was still there. So long as he didn’t kiss any blokes, he’d be alright.

But that night he dreamed Mr. Smith was chasing him with an axe.

**Spring 1922**

Jimmy didn’t sleep very much after he spoke to Thomas. First it was anxiety over the thought of having a tooth pulled, though he was very glad it would be Thomas doing it. Then it was the memory of going to the dentist all those years ago, and those sorts of memories filled him with dread so that he clenched his fists until his hands ached.

When he was fifteen, Jimmy had been sent off to Fenwick House to work as a page-boy. It was a bit better than being a hall-boy, and not so much work. Mainly he’d carried messages and run small errands. Sometimes he’d sharpened the knives. He’d sorely missed his mother though. When he’d been sent home for a short holiday one summer, he’d been only too excited. He expected a fat dinner and money for sweets. Perhaps there’d be a fair. Instead, the morning he left to go home he’d woken with a sharp ache in one tooth. He told the housekeeper, who was relieved he was visiting his family, so she wouldn’t have to deal with it, and sent him on his way.

Jimmy hadn’t known what to expect at the dentist, but the idea of laughing gas sounded like fun.

It wasn’t.

He’d felt disconnected from his body and unable to move. It was terrifying. When he came out of it less one tooth, his father was told that Jimmy had been screaming that the dentist was going to cut off his prick. Jimmy had no memory of this. Apparently he’d scandalized the assistant. At home his father had hit him for the third time in his life and shouted at his mother for coddling him. He never quite spoke to Jimmy again the way he had before and wouldn’t say why. He still joked and even taught him card tricks. But there was something different in his eyes when he looked at his son.

It was strange, because he hadn’t thought much of that conversation with his father’s friends. But the toothache had come after the incident with Christopher, one of the Fenwick hall-boys. He didn’t ever like to think of the incident with Christopher, or the incident with Private Scott during the war.

_But all that didn’t matter_ , Jimmy reminded himself. He was clutching the covers tightly. His tooth throbbed. He hated to be plagued with these thoughts.  _Everyone does that if they’re trapped somewhere with only blokes around, only they never speak of it. It doesn’t mean I’m like…well, like Thomas._

He clutched his blankets tighter and shut his eyes. Yes, better not to think of those things. A few troubling episodes over the course of twenty-six years didn’t mean much. His life was good enough now. There was no cause to worry about the past.

He finally managed to drop off to sleep, though it was fitful. In the morning, he felt yet worse, even a bit sick. Then Thomas smiled at him at breakfast and he was a little better. Ever since his cousin had died, Thomas’s smile had been comforting to him.

He could hardly eat; definitely not toast, but he managed eggs. Everyone wanted to know when he was going to the dentist-news of his bad tooth having spread. Thomas snapped that it wasn’t anyone’s business.

He suffered through serving the family’s breakfast, standing at the front door, and serving luncheon-his anxiety growing, so that eventually he had broken out into a sweat and his shirt was damp. He had hidden his own flask of whiskey in the silver room, and he swiped it and took a long drink. He figured they’d be found out, if only when Jimmy came back to the hall with a bleeding mouth, but he didn’t imagine there was any particular rule about pulling teeth. Either way, being a just a  _little_  bit drunk wouldn’t be his biggest problem. He picked up some chunks of ice from the kitchen and wrapped them in a towel, holding it to his face to numb it a bit as he made his way to the skullery.

Again he felt better once he saw Thomas, leaning against the wall by the sinks and frowning at the pliers in his hand. Jimmy eyed the pliers and took a long swig of whiskey. Thomas had laid out cotton balls and gauze, and there was a stool waiting.

“I don’t relish doing this,” Thomas muttered.

“Pretend I’m Bates,” Jimmy said. Thomas chuckled at that and Jimmy hopped up on the stool, enlivened by liquid courage. “We ought to be quick about it. They’ll miss us.”

“Yeah.” Thomas took a deep breath and took the ice, handing Jimmy a clean rag. “Try to dry your mouth out, would you?”

Jimmy felt foolish, sucking on a towel. He was also nervous and it made his mouth water more, but eventually it seemed dry enough. Thomas regarded him, glaring, and took a deep breath. “Alright, you should hold onto something.”

“Well, I’ll…hold onto you then.”

“You can’t,” Thomas said, but he smiled. “I need both my hands, I think.”

“Right, I’ll just…” He held the towel in his fists. “I’ll just squeeze this.”

Thomas looked calm at least; sure of himself. Which calmed Jimmy, as he opened his mouth wide and Thomas held his jaw firmly in his gloved palm and peered into his mouth. Jimmy was only slightly numb from the ice, but he could still feel the warmth of Thomas’s fingers. Thomas was fixed on Jimmy’s teeth and Jimmy looked up into his eyes-intensely blue and fierce as he concentrated. Jimmy shut his own eyes then, feeling a bit awkward, and squeezed his towel. He felt the cold metal of the pliers knock against his front teeth and Thomas’s thumbnail pinched his upper lip.

“I’m going to do this as quickly as I can, Jimmy,” Thomas said quietly. “Everything is fine.”

Jimmy relaxed his shoulders, but his heart was pounding in his chest. He suddenly flashed on the laughing gas mask on this face; the chilling sense of floating outside himself; the paralyzing fear; Mr. Smith chasing him in a nightmare; Christopher pressed up against him with his hand down Jimmy’s trousers; the quarter-master who’d put his mouth on him late one night as Jimmy braced himself up against a wagonette; Thomas kissing him…

He felt the pliers lock onto his sore tooth and a shock of pain made him jerk. “Ah!”

Thomas gripped the tooth and yanked firmly as Jimmy trembled and tears spilled from his eyes. He’d imagined one quick pull, but this seemed to last ages. He thought he was moaning, he wasn’t certain. But the pain was terrible.

“I’ve got you,” Thomas whispered. “I’ve got ya, love, just a moment now…”

He felt a sudden white hot shock and then the pliers smacked against his front teeth again as he cried out and lunged forward to grab Thomas by his waistcoat.

“I’ve got it. It’s over.”

Jimmy pressed his cheek up against Thomas’s stomach, clutching his livery and wrinkling it. He rode through the burning in his jaw. Thomas patted his shoulder and stuffed the gauze into his mouth.

“Hmmm!” Jimmy groaned and breathed hard through his nose. It was getting better by degrees.

They must’ve looked odd- Thomas standing over him and even stroking his hair as he whispered soothing things while Jimmy pressed into him. Jimmy didn’t mind any of that at the moment. It took him a couple of minutes to come to his senses and then he sat up and held the ice to his cheek himself, pushing the gauze to the side of the mouth. His face was sticky with tears. That was embarrassing. There was blood on Thomas’s shirt and Jimmy pointed at it, brow furrowed.

“I’ll clean it…get a new one,” Thomas said. “It’s fine.”

There was some blood on the floor too and on the counter sat the black and bloody molar, roots and all.

“Thank you,” Jimmy said around the gauze, his eyes still on his rotted tooth.

“You’re welcome,” Thomas said easily.

Jimmy stood and took his arm. “No, I mean it.” They held each other’s gaze and Jimmy felt a bit floaty. Perhaps he was faint. Blood-loss maybe. “I…you’re…”

Thomas smiled sweetly at him. “You’re welcome,” he said again.

“What on earth have you two been doing?” Anna had swept in, holding a basket of laundry. Jimmy was hardly aware of her presence but Thomas stepped away from him and out of his grasp.

“Just a bit of amateur dentistry,” Thomas said, light as a feather.

“Thomas, there’s blood on your shirt!” Anna looked horrified.

Thomas glanced at Jimmy and strode over to Anna. Jimmy blew his nose and wiped his eyes, but he could hear them speaking in hushed voices.

“He didn’t fancy goin’ to the dentist and he asked me to pull his tooth. I did it and he’s right as rain, but I’ll expect he doesn’t feel up to servin’. Don’t make a fuss.”

“You pulled his  _tooth_ , why would you…?” At his knowing expression she only nodded and set her basket on the floor. “Right. I’ll clean up here for you. You ought to change your shirt, Thomas. And help Jimmy upstairs, if he needs it.” She smiled kindly at him. “Are you alright now?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

“Oh Lord,” spotting his tooth.

He swiped the offender and slipped it in his pocket. Anna gave him a funny look but only said, “Off you two go before you’re missed any longer.”

Jimmy felt alright to walk beside Thomas on his own two feet but he couldn’t help staring up at his friend with quiet awe. Up in the men’s quarters Thomas finally looked down at him. “Jimmy, does it hurt that badly? You’re crying…”

“No, I’m…” He hadn’t realized it and touched his face, sniffing. “I’ll see you later, Mr. Barrow.” And he ducked into his muted room, falling back to the bed. He curled up and clenched his fist, pressing the ice to his jaw.

“Christ…” He squeezed his eyes shut, but tears kept falling. He was suddenly very sad and also angry. He couldn’t think exactly why. “Oh, Christ…”

_It’s stupid to be so upset and not know why_ , he thought. 

But he couldn’t get out of it and his fingernails dug into his skin.

_I’ve got ya, love. Just a moment now…_

He thought of Thomas’s eyes; the soft leather of his glove on Jimmy’s cheek; the way Thomas seemed to feel things so keenly; the time they’d huddled together in the church and Jimmy’d told him out about the war and how he’d stepped in front of the guns after hearing his father had died…

“Oh God…”

He’d been so shattered about his father’s death. Truly grief-stricken. He’d loved his father dearly. His father had taught him card tricks and songs and jokes. But there were other things too- a few moments of terror. He’d also been relieved when his father died. He’d never told anyone that.

“Thomas, Thomas, Thomas…” He whispered, babbling his own private liturgy. He couldn’t think straight.

“Oh damn it all. Christ…”

**Spring 1921**

Jimmy never looked at Mr. Barrow if he could help it. Though just as often he  _couldn’t_  help it and eyed him up and down, taking his measure. It was a kind of game to him. Could he be nasty enough to make Mr. Barrow ashamed of himself as he should be? It was Jimmy’s favorite game and one morning at breakfast he was playing it quite well. He’d already gotten in a shot just based on the way Mr. Barrow drank his tea.

“Take a lot of sugar, Mr. Barrow? I s’pose that’s how the ladies like it…”

But no one else had heard.

Generally if he was anywhere near Barrow, he was seething or muddled which only made him angrier. He didn’t like feeling muddled.

“And Lady Mary will be going to London,” Carson was saying. “Mr. Crawley will join her later.”

“I should think Lady Mary would take more care,” Miss O’Brien said, sounding as if she knew everything there was to know in the world. “Bein’ with child and all. Doesn’t seem right to me.”

Jimmy couldn’t quite make her out anymore. First she’d pushed him to befriend Mr. Barrow then just as quickly convinced him to put up a fuss after the whole catastrophe. Had she not known what sort of man he was? They’d worked together long enough.

“You bein’ the expert on having children,” Mr. Barrow muttered. “Rather jump off London Bridge than have you for a mother.”

“Must there be such unpleasantness every morning?” Anna said. And she looked between the three of them. Perhaps she’d heard the tea comment. Jimmy didn’t think that was fair. He ought to be left out of it. 

They all glared into their porridge.

After breakfast, he went to the kitchen to tease Ivy a bit- another game. But soon enough Mr. Barrow came down to ask Patmore questions about supplies.

Promoted to under-butler after everything to boot.

Well, at least Jimmy had been promoted too.

_Ought to chop your bits off,_  Jimmy thought, and he clenched his fists.

But he watched every move Mr. Barrow made.

**Spring 1922**

At breakfast, Thomas discovered that he had reached an almost heroic stature for pulling the tooth, at least in the eyes of Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore who, apparently, both disliked dentists.

Mr. Carson silently let them go on but Thomas saw him glowering.

“Well, it was very good of you, Mr. Barrow,” Mrs. Hughes was saying as she cut up her potatoes. “And how is the patient?” She smiled at Jimmy.

“Much better,” Jimmy said. But he didn’t seem very much better. His cheek was swollen and bruised and he looked gloomy.

“Next time you go yanking teeth, Mr. Barrow, you might ask permission first,” Mr. Carson said.

“Find it easier to ask forgiveness,” Thomas said, smug as a cat.

Jimmy chuckled at that and said, “And when’ve ya ever done that?”

Mrs. Hughes and Anna laughed and when Thomas finally caught his eyes, Jimmy cracked a sweet smile but quickly returned focus to his breakfast of applesauce and eggs. His smile faded and he was quiet.

But then breakfast was over and there was work to be done. Thomas had to haggle for nearly an hour with their butcher who had suddenly raised his prices, find the missing key to a safe in the library, discover the cause of a mouldy smell in one of the guest rooms, serve luncheon, run an errand to Ripon, and come back to serve dinner. It was a tiring day. He didn’t speak to Jimmy outside of one minute as they were making their way up to the dining room. Jimmy still seemed subdued.

“Are you certain you’re alright?” Thomas said. “I didn’t hurt you…”

Jimmy glanced at him in surprise and didn’t answer until they were straightening their livery to go in. “No, you’ve never hurt me.”

At dinner Jimmy kept gazing at him and missing his cues to serve, but since he looked as if he’d just been punched in the face, everyone was reasonably forgiving. When they were done for the day, he tried to find Jimmy for cards and ended up playing gin with Alfred and Bates as Anna watched.

_Cards with Bates_ , he thought.  _End days._

Then Alfred turned in but Thomas stayed because Jimmy had apparently gone for a walk and wasn’t back yet.

“And would you pull one of my teeth if I needed it?” Mr. Bates asked him. He was clearly all too amused.

“Happily. But I might pull the wrong one.” He blew a slow spiral of smoke. “Accidentally, of course.”

“‘Course.”

There were footsteps from outside and then Jimmy appeared in the back doorway, hat in hand. “Oh, good,” he said, when he saw Thomas. He smiled as he had that morning-as if he were suddenly shy.

“I don’t think you should’ve gone out,” Thomas chided him.

“I’m not goin’ to faint,” Jimmy said with a snort.

“Would you like me to deal you in?” Bates said.

“No, you’re in the middle of a game.” He wandered in and loitered at the end of the table.

“So no one’s heard your side of things,” Bates said. Anna stood behind him, her hand on his shoulder and likely hinting that she wanted to leave. “Was Mr. Barrow a good dentist?”

“Best dentist I’ve had,” Jimmy said, and he shifted on his feet and walked over to stand behind Thomas. Thomas assumed Jimmy was inspecting his hand of cards, but he felt eyes staring down on him so intensely that he couldn’t concentrate. “Wish I could play a song right now, but it’s too late.” He began to hum softly and drummed his fingers on the back of Thomas’s chair.

“Try to keep your teeth clean,” Thomas said, stubbing his cigarette out. “I don’t want to have to do that again.”

“Nice to know you would though.” And then Jimmy’s fingers were drumming gently along his back, just above the line of the chair and Thomas nearly jumped out of his seat. Thomas felt suddenly uneasy and glanced at Anna and Bates, but she was whispering something in his ear. The game was clearly forgotten. What Thomas saw was a petite blonde leaning upon her beloved dour brunett and something flickered hot in his heart when Jimmy casually rested a hand on his shoulder.

“We ought to go to the cinema, you and I,” Jimmy said in a rush. And his easy tone sounded forced. “Or…eh, the pub. Whichever you like. Do you even like films? Yes, you do, I forgot. But whichever if…if you want to.”

“‘Course, I do,” Thomas said. “I’m sure we can manage both with a little finagling.”

_He’s not courting you for God’s sake_ , Thomas thought. _Diminish all expectation._

But then Jimmy squeezed his shoulder and softly said, “Good. That’s somethin’ to look forward to.” Jimmy turned to lean backwards against the table, nearly sitting on it, to face him. “Your hand’s rubbish.”

“How rude,” Thomas said, waving his gloved hand at Jimmy.

“Oh! I-I didn’t mean-”

“God, Jimmy, I’m jokin.” Thomas laughed, watching Jimmy’s face twitch and twist.

“Bastard,” Jimmy mumbled. He glanced over his shoulder at Bates and Anna and when he saw they were paying no attention he said, “You want to know somethin’ funny?”

“Yeah…”

Jimmy reached into his trouser pocket and produced the bloody and blackened tooth. “I’ve been carrying it around all day. Don’t know why. I keep meaning to throw it out.”

“Hmm.” Thomas sat back in his chair. Anna and Bates nodded their good evenings and made their way out. “Do you want to keep it then? Sort of a souvenir?”

“No,” Jimmy said, rolling the ugly thing around in his palm. “I want to be rid of it. And it’s…morbid.”

“Then why don’t you-”

“I don’t know.” Jimmy shrugged. “You think I’m mad.”

“Yeah, but not because of that,” he said, nudging Jimmy’s arm.

Though inwardly, Thomas thought it a little strange.

“You get rid of it,” Jimmy said, and made to hand the tooth to Thomas. “You pulled it, you ought to dispose of it.”

“I would have if you hadn’t taken it in the first place. Why did you?” Thomas wanted to smoke again, but truly they ought to be going up to bed. Now Jimmy looked away, seemingly unable to answer. Thomas sighed and took the tooth as he rose from his seat. “Alright, fine then. I’ll…bury it. In the morning. That’ll save ya getting cursed by a witch.”

“Will you?” Jimmy looked pleased by thought.

He had been joking, but if Jimmy wanted him to bury his bloody tooth, Thomas supposed he would do it. “Yes,” Thomas said. “I will do. We ought to go up now. I’ll clean up here…”

“Thank you. For all of…thanks.” Jimmy fidgeted with his hair and turned to leave but Thomas stopped him on his way.

“Jimmy… You can say no, of course. But do you think you’ll ever tell me what all this was really about?” He held up the tooth and saw Jimmy’s eyes go straight to it, his expression grave.

“Yeah, I s’pose I will. In a little while. Goodnight, Thomas.” He nodded to himself and Thomas watched Jimmy disappear into the dark, before he tucked the tooth into his waist-coat pocket, cleared away the tea and cards, and turned out the light.


End file.
